


Smoke On Your Skin To Get Those Pretty Eyes Rolling

by ix_tab



Category: Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: M/M, and the golden lovers because i cannot be stopped, love these prickly boys, passing mentions of big dust and gregy, this started as me making a dumb joke and then i got real feelings, vaper's rights - despy probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 12:27:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16326242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ix_tab/pseuds/ix_tab
Summary: Love makes strange beasts of us all, thinks Zack, as he waves away a cloud of watermelon raspberry vapour and steps into his and Despy's hotel room.





	Smoke On Your Skin To Get Those Pretty Eyes Rolling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theonlytwin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonlytwin/gifts).



> the working title for this fic is 'in this life it's either vape or die'
> 
> anyway it ended up being really sweet, which i think might be the fate of all Despy/ZSJ fic. You! Can't! Escape!
> 
> for theonlytwin, who was extremely encouraging when I joked 'I want to write Despy passive aggressively vaping at Zack' and who cursed me with feelings about these two in the first place. Love you!!! <3
> 
> title from FKA twig's song 'Two Weeks'

 

Zack was outside the room he'd bargained to share with Desperado. He'd drunk a lot but over a long night, so the buzz had worn off and there was a lethargy in his limbs, unwelcome clarity in his head.

 

Greg and Dustin had grabbed him after the show, and prepared to play the idiot gaijin forgetfulness card, he'd crossed enemy faction lines, and let them drag him to the bar.

He liked these fools a lot. He'd been drunk with them in a lot of places over the years.

And while he wasn't crawling across a hotel room, just absolutely smashed off his tits, giggling as Greg asked whichever wrestler he'd wrangled into the room about their dicks, he was still feeling nostalgic, fond for the past.

He'd even seen Kenny as they'd been leaving the venue. Kenny engendered that same fondness but with a great deal more  bewilderment and frustration. 

He remembered meeting him when they were both younger, this enthusiastic, nervous Canadian man with a flair for melodrama, who thrummed with barely contained energy. Remembered tagging with him, being against him. He'd been fun, friendly, innovative and exhausting.

Years later, christ, a decade? later he was still that same melodramatic, exhausting Canadian but he'd got weirder hair, better ring gear and a scary boyfriend.

 

Kenny had been all smiles, as he hugged Dustin and Greg on their way by. Ibushi, unsurprisingly, was stuck to Kenny's side, looking pleasantly over at Kenny embracing the best friends.

“Hey, mate,” Zack said, and Kenny looked over at him, nodded, smiled at him too, softer then Zack had expected. And then Zack had watched, with rising amusement as Ibushi’s face became frostier, and his hand moved to Kenny's hip, fingers pressing in. Kenny had instantly turned towards him, everyone else disappearing from whatever weird and wild vortex the two of them existed in.

Zack had followed Dustin and Greg quickly, so Ibushi didn't catch him laughing. He supposed it was almost flattering that Ibushi thought he would be brave enough to even look Kenny's way. 

 

Besides, even if, even if in some alternate timeline where he'd lost his fucking mind and he hadn't wanted to strangle Kenny just a little, at basically every moment they'd ever worked together or against one another ...his attention, his affection was laid firmly at another place.

His attention and affection lay at the feet of the man behind the door he was currently struggling to open.

 

Finally, after what seemed hours, he got the keycard flipped the right way up, the door opened and he felt an instant wave of regret and chemically scented air hit him.

The room was dimly lit by the bedside lamps and Desperado sat on one of the beds, silently inhaling from his stupid vape pen. It wasn't noxious, like if he'd been sitting smoking cigarettes in the closed room, but without airflow the unpleasant scent lingered.

 

When Despy didn't move, not even to acknowledge him, Zack rolled his eyes, and made a show of theatrically opening the window. Cool air entered, refreshing and focusing him. He turned back to face the room's other occupant, who looked back at him, finally. There was a stubborn, sulky expression smeared across Despy's face. 

Zack wished he was still drunk, drunk enough not to care.

 

“I was out with Chuckie and Trent,” Zack said after a moment, tension getting to him. 

“Were you?” Despy asked, mildly. It didn't feel like a question. Zack grit his teeth. 

“I thought we agreed that you wouldn't smoke or what the fuck ever it is you do with that shit with closed windows,” Zack said, taking a deep breath of the slightly tainted air. Despy was just being irritating, it didn't warrant actually losing his temper.

“Did we?” Desperado asked the non question, pleasant seeming and egregiously passive aggressive. But he put the pen down, so Zack counted it as a point in his favour.

“Despy. What's going on?” Zack asked, chancing it to sit next to him. Desperado leaned imperceptibly into his side, and Zack took the further risk of wrapping an arm around his waist. He was warm, solid. A dependable presence next to him, one that he had become so fond of. This sulking fit notwithstanding, he loved just being around Despy. So he was prepared to push through whatever this was.

 

Despy deflated into him, like he'd been waiting for the chance to touch Zack. He started to feel a bit shitty, but with no real understanding of what he'd done. But he would tough it out. Despy had never been able to keep secrets, he was always ready to air grievances.

“Do...do you wish I spoke English better?” Despy said suddenly, and Zack felt like he’d been hit for six. That wasn't even...of all the things they'd argued about or struggled with, he couldn't place if this had ever popped up as real friction between them before.

“Because...I thought we were going to..go out. But you'd already left. With them. I thought...I don't know what I thought,” Despy trailed off, miserable, shut down.

Zack blinked, trying to get his sobering, tired mind to clear up, to focus. This felt a little more serious then it probably was, but he hated when Despy sounded defeated, self loathing and it felt a million times worse to think that his own thoughtless actions could have contributed to it.

 

Zack pushed at Despy, until Despy, ever obliging, fell onto the bed and Zack could lay half on top of him, and easily kiss him.

“Nothing like that, I promise, I'm not jerking you around, or forgetting you. It was a bit thoughtless, yeah? I'm sorry,” Zack said, kissing Despy's throat and face, mumbling his apology, digging in a little with his sharp chin as Despy wasn't moving with the affection, just accepting it.

But his hair had been mussed out of the messy ponytail it had been pulled into, lips curved into a small curve and colour bloomed across his cheeks. Zack pulled away enough to enjoy the change. Despy squirmed underneath him, just to be difficult, and Zack casually tangled their legs together. 

 

Just from that small moment,  Zack felt Despy's breath quicken. Despy was always fast, it never took much to get him begging, demanding to be touched. Zack found it flattering, and if he was feeling maudlin, a little sad. He didn't like the implication that Despy was touch-starved without him.

He yanked at the collar of Despy's t shirt to get to his throat, ignoring the grumble he got in response, but grinning when he got a gasp instead, taking Despy's dick in hand, gripping him firm. 

There wasn’t any  lube around, Zack realised as Despy's dick rested warm and dry against his palm. Zack winced, a little, self recriminating. He should have planned better, thought before just grabbing him, like he was some idiot kid with a bare minimum understanding of how the body worked.

Despy made urgent noises, and tugged at his arm. Zack let himself be pulled away until his palm rested against Despy's mouth. He spat into Zack's hand, and then pushed it back down between his legs.

 

“Filthy,” Zack sniffed out and then broke into his shark's grin, mouth back on Despy's throat.

He felt Despy about to complain and clamped his fingers around his dick again, tight enough that Despy had to work to get past the pressure, to get the friction he wanted.

“I suppose I'm filthy too, so I'm in good company,” Zack crooned into Desperado’s ear, and then went back to marking up his throat. He felt the easy loss of conscious thought, the way sex became about bodies and noises, the smell and the texture of skin, heat and slickness.

Mental vocabulary sloughing off, becoming one note noises, Despy’s rising pants and sobs, and his own to answer them, encouraging. Despy seemed to kick into higher gear after a minute, twisting his hips up, Zack had to work to hold him down, work to make his suddenly stupid tongue form words.

“Yes, that’s it, sweetheart, come on, you can, let me help you,” he chanted and sighed into Despy’s mouth, swallowing his breath as he came, silently.

 

Silence reigned over them both, Zack took the moment to wipe his hand off on the sheets. Despy didn’t seem to register it, sweat beading across his upper lip, eyes closed tight. They slowly opened when Zack kissed him.

“Oh. You want me to?” Despy gestured in the vague direction of Zack’s crotch. Zack considered. He was half hard, but he was still bone weary. He could wait, because he didn’t want to be the sort of tragic arsehole who passed out midway getting a handy. 

“I’m ok for now. Ask me in an hour, if we’re still awake,” Zack mumbled, still pressing Despy into the bed. Despy wiggled a little, and Zack had to cede the battle, rolled enough so that they could lay face to face.

“...So. You think we communicate clear enough? You understand what I mean?” Despy said eventually, not meeting Zack’s eyes. Zack took a breath, shifting sex clouded thoughts away. Despy was like a dog with a bone when it came to insecurities, if he didn’t throw this one out, it would be dug up again.

 

He was hit, suddenly with the memory of one of his first meals out with Despy, and the gaggle of misfits and bastards that made up Suzuki-gun, these dirty sons of bitches that would kill a man for him. The feeling had become mutual.

But this night, in a smoky bar, and he’d been hungry. He hadn’t eaten properly during the day, too caught up in the excitement, the pleasurable stress of the business. And he had thought about trying to get through the language barrier with his at the time phrasebook Japanese about vegan food to an overworked waitress. It felt insurmountable. He’d just tough it out.

And then Despy, who had seemed content to drink his beer in the corner, went to bat for him. He remembered Despy earnestly explaining that vegan meant no fish, so could they please have the agedashi without shaved bonito on top.

It had seemed like a miracle, to a slightly drunk, hungry Zack, to be offered the little plate of tofu cubes, Despy scowling a little, flushed. Embarrassed maybe, by being seen, being appreciated. Zack had eaten 5 serves, felt queasy from eating so much fried food and fell a little in love over the haze in the bar.

 

“Yes. Absolutely. Darling, we are doing better than almost every one of the dysfunctional fuckers we know,” Zack said, close enough to Despy’s face to feel the exhale as he grunted, pleased.

“I suppose. That’s a low bar to set though, Zack,” Despy replied, and they both laughed a little, at themselves, at the ridiculous crowd they were both absorbed in. The feeling settled into something almost uncomfortably tender between them.

“We good, Despy?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re ok. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, don’t be.”

 

Despy stretched a little, Zack luxuriated in the feel of his sturdy body pressing against him, raising his face up again when Despy made a little noise of pain. 

“You took chunks out of my neck! You carnivore,” Despy griped, looking up through his eyelashes, eyes half lidded, waiting for Zack to be annoyed. Zack couldn't help but oblige him.

“That’s the worst thing anyone has ever called me. I take back every nice thing I have ever said about you, you utter shit,” Zack said, rolling back on top of Despy to pin him down, give him better access to jab Despy in the ribs. Despy choked a little on his own laughter.

“Really? All of them?” He asked Zack, and Zack mock growled, bit him again.

“Stop ruining the afterglow,” Zack complained, letting himself become deadweight on top of Despy. Despy could have pushed him off, or rolled away, but he let Zack settle again, and it was. It was soft and quiet again. Sweet. Gentle.

A warm thing between them, something to be treasured, maybe.


End file.
